


The Things We Owe

by tocilar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocilar/pseuds/tocilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the demise of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D, the Soldier is off the grid, Steve and Sam are on a hunt, and Fury is in Europe. Secrets and lies are about to be unearthed as everything becomes all the more dangerous and lives are tangled together in a way none could ever have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Marvel, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, the Avengers and so on and so forth. This is purely for entertainment. No profit is made from this.

It had been two months, two months since that fateful day on the Hellicarrier when he'd almost lost his life trying to save the world and the man he'd once known as his best friend. Two months since he had toppled S.H.I.E.L.D and the underlying faction of HYDRA. It all had to go; the lies, chaos, death and destruction. He still stood firm by what he had done; the world was yet again safe – for the time being.

They were all scattered now; Fury in Europe, Romanoff and Barton were off who knows where, S.H.I.E.L.D agents were scattered through the various intelligence organizations of the C.I.A and F.B.I but Steve, Steve was in limbo. The HYDRA snakes who had survived were on the run. There were bases still out there harbouring them; Steve would track them down but first, first he would focus on dealing with another matter.

The file he'd been given from Natasha hadn't given him much; HYDRA had kept tight lock on the Winter Soldier archives; it gave him the details recounting his missions but that was all. Heads of the beast may have been here in Washington, but Steve doubted they were all the heads he needed to remove to rid the world of the organization once and for all.

Where those heads would be; more information on the Winter Soldier project would be there as well. Steve needed those files. He knew there would be something in there that would give him a way to bring Bucky back.

Steve had read the file countless times; nothing gave him much headway. Sam didn't touch it – told him it weren't any of his business to know all the details, but that he was by his side. Sam had fast become a trusted friend following the events leading to the downfall of S.H.I.E.L.D and he couldn't have asked for another by his side for this job.

Stark had given them residence in the Tower, Bucky wouldn't have stayed in Washington and they had better luck with Stark's equipment than any chase Steve gave without a location to pinpoint from. Sam knew how to work the contraptions better than Steve but he was learning. In the downtime of trying to find any sign of Bucky, Stark had been repairing Sam's wings – citing it purely for research reasons into the technology.

Steve had been sleeping less than usual; Bucky had dropped so far off the grid when he'd left him on the shore that day – there wasn't a blimp on a camera for him or anything. He didn't know how he would survive in a world so far from theirs had been, especially if his memories were returning. Part of Steve wanted him to remember so he knew the man he had been and not what HYDRA had made him.

But – there was the repercussions of what that might further do to damage Bucky's mental state. The file had touched on the subject of how they had kept  _the Soldier_  in line; electroshock therapy. He had scoffed – that wasn't therapy it was torture, plain and -

_BZZT. BZZT. BZZT._

He reached over and hit the alarm. It was a useless item – he was up most of the night and by morning he would be laying there just staring at the ceiling trying to process the fact that Bucky had left; rejected him.

Pushing himself up from the bed, he went about his morning routine like the good soldier he was; taking his time though as had become his morning tradition. What was the rush anyway? There would be no news on the whereabouts of Bucky, just as there hadn't been for the past two months.

By the time he dragged himself down to the surveillance floor; Sam was nursing a fresh mug of coffee and tapping his legs along to some music. Steve ran a hand through his mused hair and dropped into the chair alongside his friend.

"Still nothing?"

Sam shook his head and rolled his shoulders. Steve settled himself in for the next four hours of his rotation at monitoring, hoping today was the day.

* * *

The car stolen, just like the clothes – he'd pulled those off a clothesline whilst heading out of Washington – and a duffel bag of cash on the passenger floor. Two months of running and living in this car with no real idea of where he was going to next. There were fragments of a long forgotten past breaking through the longer he was out of cryostasis.

Nothing he could solidly piece together and make sense of but fragments none the less.

He was a soldier without a home base; the Soldier in him told him to return to another secondary location for regroup. But he hadn't completed his last mission; something had stopped him from killing that man.

A less conscious part of his mind had screamed for him to spare the man the moment he had coughed out those words:  _"I'm with you til the end of the line."_

The Solider in him had only seen the mission but the part of him that was rattled by the words had seen a friend from a life he couldn't remember living.

Until that day, finishing a mission had always been quick, precise and easy.

The less conscious part of him, buried deep beneath the Soldier also knew that returning to his superiors meant losing himself again. He would be strapped into that chair, wiped and then sent out to kill another who jeopardized HYDRA's ultimate goal; their future.

Or worse, they would put him back into cryostasis. The Soldier wouldn't admit the fear his less conscious self felt at the idea of losing hope of life after so many years lost following orders.

He was on autopilot though – he didn't know this world and it was larger than he had ever expected. Leaving Washington hadn't been difficult; he had wanted to put as much distance between himself and the Captain as possible.

Before he had left, he had visited the Smithsonian. A museum filled with so much of a history he had been asleep for. The Captain America exhibit had drawn his attention. Perhaps there had been some mention of him, if he was so close to the Captain as he believed them to be.

_He'd broken in; better to come now then when hundreds of people would be filling the buildings' walls and crowding him in. It had been a simple break and enter; he didn't leave any tracks or signs behind as he had come in and as he had passed by all the exhibits a part of him felt a desperate need to discover them all, read about the history that he had not truly been a part of._

_But the Captain America exhibit had been his goal and the Soldier in him made a beeline for it. If there was any shred of truth to the Captain's words, then he would surely be mentioned in here somewhere._

_As he had passed by the various pieces in the exhibit, he felt a tug in his subconscious whilst skimming the articles of the Captain. Nothing useful yet; he turned towards another panel of information and froze. Hands buried deep into the pockets of his jacket and cap pulled low, he stared at the larger picture of a man identical to him in appearance with shorter hair and less stubble on his jaw._

_James Buchanan Banes better known as Bucky. A Howling Commando, Steve Roger's best friend since childhood and a decorated soldier. He was part way through the article when footsteps close behind him drew his attention._

_Turning, he found an elderly gentleman in a security uniform; frail and short. He seemed to stammer for a moment before finding his voice. "Sorry son, you can't be in here. Museum's closed at the moment."_

_The Soldier wanted to take the elder down, but the man in him won and instead he just walked by the officer, not looking back and not uttering a word. He had what he wanted. Even if only a small scrape of a vast past he still had to-_

A horn startled him back to reality. The Soldier, normally so alert, had slipped into his thoughts and drifted across the lane. A large truck was bearing down on him. He swerved harshly and hit the brakes as he went off road and onto the dirt.

Looking in the rear view mirror, he watched the truck disappear into the night and leaned back into the seat. He didn't sleep presently. The last two months he had spent traveling long distances and keeping himself as far off the grid as able with maps he had stolen.

If he slept, he had nightmares. Fast, shaky images of things he couldn't make heads or tails of. He'd wake up sweating and with a knife in hand. No, he'd rather cover as much distance as possible and try to find a place where he could lay low and think of what to do with himself; what his next move would be.

Pulling back onto the road, he pressed the radio on, hoping the music would distract him from all those dual thoughts running through his head. About ten minutes down the road, he caught sight of a sign reading:  _Harry's Hideaway Diner and Gas Stop 5kms._

His stomach growled at him and he winced in discomfort. He had been driving for over five hours; one hour or so in some small diner for food wouldn't hurt. Living off those odd bars he had found were sustaining him but real food, now that sounded like some soft of sweet dream he had been longing for, for quite some time.

* * *

Harry's Hideaway Diner and Gas Stop wasn't much to look at; small, back road place that was open early and closed late. It hadn't been renovated in about forty years – the previous two owners and the present one enjoying the retro feel of the place. It was kept in good order; the kitchen was run by two chefs, the front staffed by four waitresses and one busboy.

Nora always took the late shifts – she didn't sleep much and there was less of a crowd meaning she could clean the place as she went.

It was nine o'clock – two hours left until closing and the place was quiet. A couple of young girls heading on a road trip had left about twenty minutes ago and now she was by herself. Harry, the owner, was in back singing horribly off key to  _There Goes My Baby_  by the Drifters and she couldn't help but sway along as she wiped the counter down – Eddie the poor busboy was half crazy by now. Headlights out the front of the diner didn't faze her.

She simply kept wiping the counter down, waiting until the jingle of the bell signalled a new customer. Harry was still singing along as the jingle came and Nora smiled – poor customer would probably think they were walking into a crazy house.

She tucked the cloth into the string of her apron round her hips, straightened the skirt of her uniform and raised her eyes to the person coming in the door.

A single person, a man to be exact, stood in the doorway. He looked rather unkempt and had one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. Part of her heart skipped a beat as her brain told her that he could be here to rob the place; he could have a gun in his pocket for all she knew.

Nora decided to just put on a smile and see what he was after, rather than turning him away because he looked a little shady. So put on a big, friendly smile is what she did. "Hi, were you looking to sit in, hun?"

His eyes snapped round to her and he just stared. She waited patiently, not really worrying about rushing him to a table. He looked like a lost soul, a wanderer. After a few beats, he slowly nodded. It wasn't very noticeable but it was there.

She pushed her ponytail back from her shoulder, grabbed a clean mug and pot of coffee. "Alright then, follow me," she instructed and came round the counter. She heard the door shut behind him as he followed her silently.

Moving to put him in a booth by the front window, she was surprised when he put himself in the very back one. Back to the wall and with a view of the whole diner. She didn't miss a beat and put the mug down before him and filled it with coffee.

"Let me know if I can get you anything, okay?"

He gave another small nod and she turned on her heel and headed back behind the main counter. Nora started humming softly as another song came onto the stereo and this time it was  _Stand By Me_  by Ben E. King.

The man kept silent, not even sipping his coffee she noticed. It wasn't horrible coffee, she knew that personally but by the sunken look on his face and tired eyes, Nora didn't think the poor man was having a good day, or week.

She made it a strong point to not bother the customers like the elder waitress, Sarah did of a night time – Nora liked just letting them ask for things when needed and then keep to their own little booth and space but this man; this man seemed to be a magnet.

Nora found herself looking over at him every so often. He was sunken into his seat, eyes straight ahead and hand clasped round his mug. He had brunette hair to his shoulders, hidden under a blue baseball cap and he wore a dark jacket and ill fitting jeans.

She wondered where he had come from. Pursing her lips, Nora pulled out her order booklet and wrote up an order and turned to face the open window where the kitchen was. Harry was still jiving round and smiled, pointing his tongs at her when she popped her head into view.

Nora shook her head at him and just rolled her eyes before putting the order through.

As she turned back round to the front, the door slammed open – making her jump, startled and she frowned at the group of four men who came strolling in. Perfect. One man she didn't mind this close to closing but an extra four and a loud bunch at that were not her cup of tea.

Still Nora put on a smile and made to ask them if she could help them only they walked straight past her and took up residence in the fifth booth from the door and three away from the quiet stranger.

Nora grabbed up four menus, sighing heavily as one clicked his fingers while looking in her direction. If you wanted her attention, snapping fingers at her like she was a dog was not the way to get her polite attention but to piss her off.

That and she didn't really like dogs.

_Men_ she thought bitterly. A little irritated already by them, she headed round the counter and noticed her quiet stranger was looking at her; she smiled tightly at him before heading for the new patrons.

"Well, well, well ain't you a nice looking host," the one in the left window seat commented as she reached them, his eyes not so subtly going up down her figure.

Nora gave him a polite smile and simply put the menus down on the table. "What drinks can I get for you?" she inquired, completely ignoring the flirtatious manner coming from them.

However it wasn't Nora's lucky night. The one on the right grabbed at the tie of her apron and tugged her toward him. Nora pulled back, but he still managed to cop a feel of her ass. She scowled. "My boss out back sure don't like creeps, boys. You can order and keep your hands off me or I'll let him boot you out the door. What'll it be?"

They all seemed to look between each other and then back at her before the one who had spoken first opted to talk. "We'll behave darling," he replied but the smile on his face gave her nothing but a worried feeling.

She nodded and quickly took their orders before leaving them to their own devices. Nora walked by the stranger and saw the way his head followed her. Her sharp eyes didn't fail to notice the white knuckled grip he had on his mug. He had been watching the interaction by the way his eyes went back to the men once she was back behind the counter.

Nora put their order in as Harry finished up the order for her quiet stranger. She thanked him and grabbed the plate.

* * *

The diner was empty when he'd pushed the door open save for the young woman behind the counter and by the sound of it another person in the back. He waited in the doorway, unsure as to whether to enter the place or not – the lights were still on and the door sign still read open.

He made sure to keep his metal arm tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His eyes were scanning the place, trying to detect if there was anything that might be a threat. The Soldier programming in him was on full alert while the man buried beneath saw nothing but a warm place for a few hours.

His eyes went to her when she spoke. Her face was soft, oval and fair in complexion. It took him a moment to register what she had said.

He gave her the barest of nods. Her smile was warm and soft towards him; his body relaxed just the slightest. She was no enemy with deadly skills; she was waitress in some remote diner in Iowa.

He followed her as she requested. She made to sit him in a booth where there was open space behind him. The Soldier in him didn't like the thought of that and therefore he took up the furthest booth from the door with a wall at his back and a view of the whole place. She didn't say anything against it, placing an empty mug before him and filling it with coffee.

"Let me know if I can get you anything, okay?"

He gave her another small nod and then watched her walk back to the counter. Part of him settled in to enjoy the peace of this place and then he heard it; a sort humming. It was in time with whatever song had started playing through the speakers. It was soft that any other person would not have heard it, but he did.

The coffee mug warmed his hand as he just sat there. Without the need to be looking at the road, he felt a little more at ease and was glad for the rest. Without cryostasis and no sleep, he had no regular sleeping pattern and his nightmares were more of an inclination to not shut his eyes.

The waitress was watching him every so often; he could feel whenever she looked upon him. It didn't unnerve him like he expected.

The door slammed open; his hand tightened on the mug, eyes jerking to the loud group of four men who came in. His nerves were on full alert. He watched the woman quietly as she gathered up some menus and the way the men dismissed her so carelessly.

Something in him, some deep engrained manner made him clasp his mug tighter at the rude behaviour towards the young woman. These weren't men. The snapping of fingers made him frown and he watched her come round the counter. Her smile was tight.

There was something off putting about the men not respecting the woman who was serving them.

His eyes took in her tense back and the way she tried to keep herself out of reach. She was use to men like this evidently. The moment one grabbed at her, his hand went to the knife hidden in his boot but halted as she defended herself.

His eyes didn't leave her as she came back to the counter; his grip tight on his mug. The men made a move and his eyes went back to them.

A peaceful few hours seemed out the window with those men here.

A plate was suddenly placed in front of him and his eyes darted up to the face of the fair haired waitress. His brow furrowed in questioning. "It's on the house, look like you're having a rough week, hun," she said softly with a little smile.

He nodded and looked down at the large plate of food before he found his voice: "Thank you."

She turned and headed back to the counter to get the drinks for the men at the other table. Burger and fries; a familiar meal – from so many years ago and his mouth did water at the smell of the food as his stomach grumbled softly.

His eyes went to the waitress; she looked at him and smiled a little, her eyes soft toward him, and with that he turned his gaze back to the men and picked up a fry.

* * *

She hadn't expected him to speak in all truth; it had been more a whisper though than anything. His gratitude was worth it though, Nora wasn't a cruel person and she would show others kindness when she deemed a person needed it as once, many years ago, a random act of kindness had saved her life.

With the drinks delivered to the men, Nora kept her attention at the counter, cleaning the back bench as Harry cooked their meals. Looking at the diner clock she sighed, they were going to run overtime.

Her quiet stranger was eating, his eyes on the four men in the other booth and not on his food. There was something about the way he watched them that made her feel like she was safe; looks were unassuming but the way he kept watch was like a soldier. Maybe he has come home from a tour recently and suffering PTSD from the experience?

She sighed as the men got louder. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so thank you for the reviews, favourites, alerts and reads so far.
> 
> Thank you for taking an interest in this project. I am blending the cinematic Marvel with the comic verse so more Marvel characters will be popping up and I have blended elements of an old television show into this and it actually worked out.
> 
> I'm pacing this story, it won't rush to get to places. I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you enjoy and I appreciate reviews - I won't hold this to ransom for them but I do love hearing from you all.
> 
> I shall be updating every Monday, unless stated otherwise.

Harry had cleared out as soon as he had cleaned the back; leaving just Nora and Eddie. She loved Harry, he had given her a job seven years ago when she'd first come across the diner and never asked questions about her past or why a sixteen year old had been out on her own, with only the clothes on her back. Since then she had called this place home. She had no bank accounts tied to her, something in her had told her to stay as far off the grid as possible.

That lingering part of her kept her from growing attached to anyone; Harry being the only exception to this rule. Even little Eddie, as adorably unkempt and dorky as he was, remained nothing but the kid who cleared the tables and did the dishes.

With Harry gone, she attached her iPod to the stereo and selected Takida. Nora's mood had fallen rapidly; she had been smacked across the ass when bringing the men their second round of drinks and she had growled, stiffening her spine and ignoring the comments thrown round before leaving them alone. Her quiet stranger had been sitting ramrod straight as she had passed by him.

He had finished eating – in record time, she might add – and was still nursing that same mug of coffee.

After a minute or so, Nora had heard heavy boots on the tiled floor and glanced round to find her stranger on his feet and leaving. She was a little down he was leaving first; he had been silent company but it was better than the company of the men at table five. As he was passing by the counter, he nodded towards her and she smiled tiredly back.

Not long after the men finally left; their table a mess and no tips – leaving Nora perturbed by the fact she had not smacked at least one of them round in the slightest for their behaviour. Assholes she had muttered as the door had shut behind them.

She sent Eddie home once everything was tidy and then finished mopping the main floor. Grabbing her bag from the first table, she fished the keys to the shop out and locked the front door.

The night was cool; she fixed her jacket round her tighter while making her way across the lot to where her 1984 white Renault was parked.

It suited her well enough; small and it ran. Nora was about simplicity and for the past few years it had served her well. Letting out a puff of air, she smiled as it dispersed into the night air. Of a night, she didn't need lights like most others; her vision was quite unique – and incredibly keen in the dark. Yet another trait that made her feel less human and more freak.

As she was stuck in her thoughts and tuned out to the world around her, Nora didn't hear the person approach behind her until it was far too late. An arm snaked round her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. Nora cried out in fright, immediately going into fight mode; struggling fiercely against the man holding her to him. His hand comes up to wrap about her neck, taking the breath from her. She bucked against the man, trying to gain a good stance to propel them apart.

His grip tightened and she growled, trying to wretch free as she caught sight of the second man approaching from her front. "Come on, kitten, play nice and we won't get too rough," he teased.

Nora was pinned tight to the man behind her and only had her legs to keep distance between them. The moment he was within reach, Nora lashed out, kicking the inside of his knee almost bringing him down. She blamed the awkward angle she was being held at as to why she didn't do half as much damage to him as she knew she could.

He swore and then slammed his elbow into her stomach. Nora gasped, would've doubled over at the force of the hit had she not been being held up. The world spun violently as her vision tried to clear of black spots.

Her captor had swung them round and she was shoved down onto the hood of a car. Her head connected solidly with the hood, rattling her and momentarily stunning her. It gave her captor time enough to manoeuvre her arms behind her back and he leaned his weight over her.

Nora cringed and groaned as she felt a tongue on her neck. "Get off me!" she growled, struggling against him despite being pinned. A hand on her thigh made her struggle twice as hard, attempting to twist her body until she had the leverage to shove him away. She would break her shoulder at this rate.

He kicked her legs apart and gripped the end of her skirt. He chuckled, lips on her neck as she squirmed. "Hurt less, if ya play along, sweetheart," he said into her ear.

As he started to pull her skirt up, a grunt echoed near them and her captor was suddenly leaning away from her. She heard sounds of fighting behind them.

* * *

He was breathing heavily as he stared the third man down. The first lay crumpled to the ground; his neck broken. He had come back. Part of him knew he couldn't leave the woman in the hands of these men even though he knew the outcome would result in their deaths. The Soldier took control the moment he had pulled the car over on the side of the road and gotten out.

The fair haired waitress had shown him kindness without even being prompted to and those men had left him with a bad taste in his mouth with the way they had treated her but he had told himself to leave.

And so he had – she had smiled at him as he'd left and then he'd been in the car, pulling out of the lot. He had gotten barely five minutes down the road when he had pulled over. Looking in the rear view mirror, he could see himself and the road behind him. He looked pitiful; his beard was growing longer again and his eyes were tired.

She had given him a meal and some kindness despite him being a complete stranger. He turned the car back on and turned it around.

The Soldier in him told him to stop before he reached the diner and walk back. And he had. His stride determined and his mission clear. As he had come back to the lot, the scream from the waitress had been enough to kick start a primal need to defend in his blood and he had moved forward fast.

The closest man had his back to him. He grabbed him from behind and without hesitation his neck was snapped and he dropped to the ground. The Soldier was in full control; he didn't care that he was murdering another human; he cared about defending the woman. Who he noted was pinned to the hood of a car by one of the men.

The second man fell to the ground, a knife in his chest when he'd made to charge the Soldier and that is where they came to. The third man stared him down; a knife in hand and his upper lip trembling.

His breathing heavy as anger replaced a need to do duty. These men weren't men; they were dregs of society, lower than he even and the man in him was glad to have returned to help the waitress.

The third man didn't charge him; no, he dropped the knife from a shaky hand after a few seconds. The Soldier refused to leave a witness and he crossed the distance between them and uppercut the man, breaking his jaw before bringing him to the ground and driving the knife into his side.

He tensed up, coughing up blood and grasping tightly to the collar of the Soldier's shirt.

And then it was down to one.

* * *

Nora was relieved as the weight lifted off her back but just as she went to straighten up, she was thrown sideways roughly to the ground. She reacted quicker than expected, putting her hands out to take some of the impact off her knees.

She whimpered at the force, biting her lip. "This has got nothing to do with you." Nora dared to look over at the man who had been pinning her to the car. He stood with his back to her, a knife in hand – god, would he have killed her after they were done?

Then she noticed who had come to help her. Her quiet stranger stood only feet away, tense and watching her attacker. Hadn't he left? He had come back? The relief in her didn't last long as she glanced towards the man's friends who had been watching.

They were scattered across the lot; none of them moving. Her heart beat fierce in her chest and she didn't know whether it was from fear, shock or absolute relief. He had knocked them out – right? Nora couldn't see them full from the angles they were lying at – even with her keen sight.

She heard the man standing close to her speak; didn't catch what he had said and then he was lunging for her saviour.

Her quiet stranger on the other hand didn't charge but dropped back, using the man's own momentum against him. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt as they came crashing into each other and her attacker was thrown head first across the lot.

Her stranger was on his feet and advancing on the temporarily stunned man still face first on the ground.

He picked him up and threw a punch. She heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking and winced, even as a small part of her wished she had caused said damage to the prick.

There was a sickening scream and Nora saw the man's arm pulled back at an awkward angle just before her stranger drove his knee up into the guy's stomach viciously. Nora didn't see the knife in her stranger's hand until it was buried deep into the man's chest and he gasped sharply; wide eyes falling to the weapon in his chest as he was held up by the stranger.

Nora felt her stomach twist viciously.

He crumpled to the ground as the stranger let him go, twitching in his last moments of life.

Silence; only broken by the heavy breaths of the man standing before her, fell over the lot. Nora stared at the stranger's back, noticing how rigid he was and then her mind kicked into gear. It screamed at her to move, grab her things and run.

She quickly reached out for her bag, grabbing what few things had fallen out of it as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her bag tight to her chest staring wide-eyed at the man.

"Go." The deep growl startled her.

"My car is over there," she said, pointing toward the tiny car across the lot in front of him. She bit the inside of her cheek thinking she was crazy for asking herself this. "Do you have anywhere to go?" She looked round for his car. He had pulled up in one. Did he walk back to help her? How had he even known?

Her head hurt. She winced as her fingers reached up and brushed over a tender spot just over her right temple – lucky she didn't bruise easy.

He must have heard her wince, because he was suddenly looking over his shoulder towards her. Nora's hand dropped and she gave him the barest of smiles. He turned away again. "I just want to help. You helped me."

"I don't know why I did that."

He was walking back towards the road. Something urged Nora to follow him. His strides were longer than hers meaning she had to move fast to catch up, and her head was pounding. "Well I'm grateful you did. I don't like hurting people."

"They deserved it."

She glanced back round to the bodies sprawled out across the lot. Harry was going to ask a lot of questions come morning. "They deserved to be punished, not killed. Death is an easy escape for cruel people."

Nora reached out as she caught him, grabbing hold of his forearm. He tensed and Nora quickly released his arm, stepping a few steps back from him. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to help."

He turned to face her sharply. "Why?"

She was a little taken back by the harsh tone. "You helped me and you look like you've had a rough week."

He seemed to regard her carefully and as Nora was wondering if she was doing the smartest thing, she felt the pounding in her head increase twofold.

Before she had time to register what was happening, she blacked out.

* * *

The Soldier would've let her drop to the ground. He had done his part; she was safe for the night. He could put her up against that small car she claimed was hers and leave. That was what he should of done.

The man in him though moved fast and caught the unconscious woman before she fell to the ground. He shifted her, lifting her up into his arms and glancing down at her. She had to live around here.

His first rational thought was to drop her off at a hospital, at least the staff would be able to keep monitor of her for the evening. When she woke up though there was the risk she would be questioned; they would ask her about him, about what had happened.

He couldn't take the risk of someone who had been apart of HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D finding out about him.

If he returned her to her home though, kept watch over her until she woke up at least he could ensure she didn't speak of him to anyone. That was logical.

Heading for his car, he managed to get her into the passenger seat, tossing his bags into the backseat. She had a bag over her shoulder and he pulled it free of her, opening it and finding her purse. Identification always had an address; he knew that from his Soldier days when he needed to take care of any loose ends.

Finding what he was looking for, he read her address and then grabbed his map from the dash. It was forty minutes away, on the outskirts of a small town by the look of it.

* * *

Nora was first aware she was in a moving vehicle by the soft sound of the radio presenter from one of the stations was talking about the weather. She moaned softly as the pounding in her head from earlier came back in the form of a dull ache. "What?"

"You blacked out."

She jumped, turning her head sharply and wincing at the pain that shot up her neck in doing so. Her quiet stranger sat in the driver's seat, eyes on the road and a map on the console between them.

Nora glanced round, looking into the back to see three bags and black leather seats. Her bag was resting at her feet. This was definitely not her car. Her nerves spiked as all those horror movies she'd watched over the years came rushing back to her. "Where – where are we going?" Her voice was soft and timid. She didn't want to push the subject but if he was kidnapping her, she wasn't about to go down without a fight. Her hand went to the handle on the door, prepared if need be.

"Your residence," he replied.

Nora was going to ask how he knew where she lived until the smart part of her kicked in and told her he obviously had gone through her purse while she was unconscious. "Why?"

He didn't answer her. She glanced towards his hands on the wheel. They were gloved. One fully enclosed while the other only in a fingerless leather one. She wondered why he was wearing that but given how simply he had taken down the men back at the diner, she gathered military training and perhaps he had a fake hand – but they weren't so moveable were they?

She slowly settled back into her seat. "Nora," she blurted out after a moment.

"What?"

She went a little red. "Sorry. I'm Nora is what I should of said."

He didn't look at her, make a gesture nor spoke.

_Okay remember Nora, he isn't the talkative type._

"I don't mean to push, but would you mind giving me your name?" she pressed, looking at him expectantly.

* * *

Nora. It was an old name. He remained silent. She didn't need a name for him. He would ensure she was inside and then he would leave her be. There was a danger in staying still for long. Keeping off the grid meant keeping himself moving; give them, HYDRA, less of a chance to pin him down.

He knew they had a tracker in him, in case he ever went AWOL on them, the Captain had cut off a head in Washington but he knew that more were out there. If they wanted him back, they would be tracking him, trying to pinpoint his location.

He tightened his grip on the wheel as she asked for his name again. What was his name? Soldier? Bucky? James? Barnes? They were all from a past that he didn't know whether he wanted to remember anymore.

The pain that would come with his memories – he was steeling himself for the flood that would break the gates to his already shaky state.

"I don't know." It slipped out before he even really considered giving her a false name.

He glanced at her. Her face was dirty; a light bruise was on her right temple, blood at the corner of her mouth and a spilt lip. He frowned at how he paid attention to such detail on the woman. She would be clean in an hour.

Nora seemed to be studying him as carefully as he was her.

Then she spoke softly: "Everyone has a name."

"I have many names," he muttered, "They don't belong to me anymore."

* * *

Nora felt for the man sitting beside her. So long ago she had not had a name. Nora was the name she had given herself; it had felt right back then when they'd been asking her all those questions. Who was she? How old was she? How did she get there? Where were her parents?

A flood of emotions came rolling back to her of that night; pain, confusion, and the most prominent had been the fear. Strangers had helped her back then and now here so far down the track she had been kind to a man lost in his path and he had helped her.

She didn't want to seem noisy but Nora honestly wanted to know his name, or a name, something by which she could call him. He seemed to be frowning to. Sighing, she decided to just leave him be. If he didn't wish to give her a name, he in truth didn't have to.

* * *

He saw her relax down into the seat and felt something tighten in his gut as she turned away from him to focus on the tree line running alongside the car. She went quiet and he sank into his thoughts. What was his name now?

Bucky had been the nickname of Steve Roger's best friend, a Howling Commando and hero. He wasn't a hero. He was a murderer. He had been a puppet. He had been used so viciously by men who had thought murder was simply a means to an end, that the lives of a few for the many was fine as long as they weren't pulling the trigger personally and weren't caught in the line of fire.

He tightened his grip on the wheel suddenly. They had stripped him of everything he was and made him into the very thing he knew was against his nature and now the past and present of his two worlds were waging war internally with him.

He couldn't go back to being Steve's friend; how could he stand alongside the hero and when he was the very thing the Captain was meant to take down. He couldn't go back to HYDRA and being the Winter Soldier; to be nothing but a toy they could wipe every time they were done with him and then put him in cryostasis.

He could be James though. It was a simple name, like Nora. He didn't need a last name – he didn't need anything but the name. The man he once was, well none of that mattered now. He could be James; a man trying to find himself amongst the ashes of his dead past.

"James."

Sapphire eyes came round to watch him. "James?"

He nodded. "My name."

James glanced across at her and saw her eyes light up a little before she gave him a small smile. "Thank you James, for helping me."


	3. Chapter 3

He pulled into the driveway of the house Nora pointed him to. From the end of the driveway the house was tiny; brick, one main window and the long stretch of a driveway, it was adequate for one person and he gathered there wasn't another person living there. Nora hadn't spoken since she had thanked him and he, James, was grateful for it.

Once she was out of the car and to the safety of the door, he would leave. He did not need to complicate the life of another and then there was the problem of the tracer in him. James knew that given what had occurred back at the diner, it would draw attention and they would comb the entire area – hunt him down and take him in.

It didn't matter what faction it was; HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D both would use him, torture him in different ways. HYDRA would take his memories, S.H.I.E.L.D would take what remained of his fractured sanity.

He had put this woman in danger simply by helping her – it had been foolish but part of him would never have lived with the fact that he had left a woman to be hurt.

No, he had done the right thing but it did have repercussions. He pulled up in front of the small garage door and turned the engine off. The young woman beside him quietly gathered up her bag from near her feet. James felt the uncomfortable silence swell between them.

* * *

As she gathered up her things, Nora didn't wonder about what she was going to do when she got into the house, she wondered about James; he seemed to be dealing with a lot – she didn't really have the right to pry and nor would she. Getting his name had been hard she could only imagine what getting his life story out of him would take.

Clutching her bag to her stomach, Nora glanced across at the man beside her in the dark of the car. He hadn't undone his seat belt like she had. Worrying on her lower lip, she considered where he would go after this – judging by the bags in the back he wasn't from round here.

Opening the door of the car, she pushed it open and registered the chill to the night air on her leg. She was out of the car, hand on the frame of the car when something stopped her from going further. He had saved her tonight; fate had dealt its hand and laid the cards out on the table. Nora didn't trust people easy; and he had managed to kill for men without breaking a sweat but he had brought her home without harming her. He had protected her.

Man, she had to be absolutely insane for even thinking what she was.

Nora turned and bent down to glance back into the car. "Listen, uh – James, did you – ah, did you want – Do you have anywhere to stay for the night?"

Nora saw him glance sideways at her from beneath a wild mop of hair; he was sitting tense and grip tight on the steering wheel. His eyes were guarded but judging. He was reading her and something about the intense way he did so left Nora unable to hold his gaze.

Then he spoke: "I'm fine."

Nora hardly believed him. Pursing her lips, she crouched down by the passenger seat. "Honestly, I don't believe you." The slight widening of his eyes made her smile back at him gently. "You may not know it, but you really did a lot for me tonight." He shook his head a little; eyes dropping to the steering wheel.

"Go inside," he muttered.

Stubborn male. "Come with me." His head shot up suddenly, startling Nora a little.

"No."

Nora narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to force you, but you're a stubborn male and so I'll only say this once – I'm offering you the couch for the night so you don't have to travel into town. Might be best, given what you did to not let anyone else see you."

* * *

Persistent and persuasive woman. Who raised numerous good points and none that he could really argue with; even just her and the two workers at the diner tonight had been more than he needed to be recognized by. If he stayed here, he could dig out that tracer in him; get rid of it and throw HYDRA completely off the scent.

But it was risking her life already. Nora was still crouched by the passenger seat, watching him and he inwardly sighed. He could not leave until she moved and something told him she wasn't going to move until he said yes.

The Soldier was at ease, the man had control and he was weary.

He undid the buckle of his belt and reached into the back to grab his bags. James climbed from the car and saw Nora grinning from ear to ear.

Shutting the door of the car, he shouldered his bags and stopped by the front of the car as Nora came round to meet him. She was rifling through her bag; mumbling something about keys.

Leading him up to the front door, Nora said something to him and in response he simply nodded at her. He was making a list of the things he would need in order to dig the tracer out; knife (one of his own), gauze, padding, bandages, needle, twine, hot water and –

"Do you have medical supplies?"

She stopped and so did he, wondering why they were stopping on the steps leading to the small stoop before the door. Nora turned slowly to face him; one dark eyebrow raised high. "Like a first aid kit?"

He nodded in answer; first aid kit. Nora's gaze dropped and therefore so did James' curious as to what she was looking at. "Did they hurt you back there?" Ah, right. She thought one of those  _men_ had gotten him.

The Soldier deflected. "I can look after myself."

Nora slowly nodded as she turned back to the door, though he did register the worry on her face. The woman did not even know him and she was worried for his health. Why did a woman react so fast to the idea of injury or needing to aid another?

James simply shrugged the question off as Nora got the door open. She stepped in and then turned, holding the door open and waving an arm to the interior. "Well, come on in." He felt like shaking his head at the woman's odd behavior. Instead James braced himself for the unknown and the incredibly odd turn of the night's events before stepping over the threshold.

It was neat. Extremely neat; organised too. The small room they stepped into was sparse; a television, couch, coffee table, and two cabinets of books. As his eyes made a second sweep of the room, after his subconscious cleared it in the first of any danger, he noticed there were no photos. The walls were bare as were the cabinet tops and table.

His brows furrowed. It was – odd. People were sentimental. Attachments were what made humans so sensitive to the world around them and yet Nora's home was almost Spartan in living aside from the books.

A sigh made him turn around.

* * *

Triumph. It coursed through her as she had led him up to the front door. Nora had successfully gotten him to come inside – yes, she was no doubt crazy for offering, and yes, she was stupid for allowing a stranger into her home but Nora owed him. She didn't like owing people.

Medical supplies was an odd term to use for the first aid kit but she didn't push. Nora wondered that perhaps one of the men had stabbed him during the scuffle but she couldn't make out him favoring any particular body part.

She could clean herself up, she had purposely not glanced into any mirrors; lord only knew what she must look like after everything.

Nora knew that in the event of an injured animal she was like a magnet. She wanted to look after the animal; James, while not an animal, certainly seemed wounded.

Getting to the door, she fished round for her house keys and was pleased to find them relatively quickly. She did have that women's complex with having a handbag crammed full of stuff; most of it was necessary – most.

Swinging open the door, Nora turned – half expected him to have made a mad dash back to the car – grateful he hadn't and waved an arm towards the living room. "Well, come on in." Part of her knew she probably was crazy and he know doubt thought so to but it was just another side of her very large personality.

Nora waited patiently as her guest stepped inside – he was tense; shoulders rigid, back straight and his eyes darting everywhere. She guessed he was unaccustomed to kindness but his whole demeanor left her with the impression he was ready in case of an attack. She felt like muttering there was no one else but them here though she doubted it would relax him any.

His eyes were assessing. Nora glanced over her small living room, suddenly wondering whether it was adequate – her house was small, designed for one and reflected a very simple living. She wasn't one for much decoration; books and movies she enjoyed, there weren't any nick knacks or little quirky items – everything that she had was a necessity.

She sighed. This was her home but it didn't really feel like it when she reassessed her years living here – most people who had spent the better part of seven years in a home would have made it more their own.

Nora realized she was being stared at and quickly glanced across to find James watching her. Clearing her throat, she pushed the door shut, throwing the locks back into place before deciding that she would get him sorted before taking care of herself.

"Follow me." He did so wordlessly, the two large black bags slung over his shoulder and not seeming to even phase him in their weight. The living joined onto a small hallway; an open door-frame led into the kitchen and to further extent a tiny laundry room, while the door on the right was the bathroom and the one at the far end led to her bedroom.

The kitchen was sparse – a large table did sit center. The appliances were outmoded now but they served her well; her fridge was kept stocked with essentials and her cupboards were stocked.

Nora dropped her bag onto the table and turned to face her guest who stood in the door-frame; tall, tense and frozen in one posture as he watched her. It was downright awkward if Nora was completely honest.

His gaze was intense to put it lightly and Nora found it hard to keep eye contact with him. Clapping her hands together in front of her, Nora smiled a little at him. "You can take a seat while I get the first aid kit for you."

At that, he stepped into the room, immediately shrinking the space down considerably as he dropped his bags near the legs of the table and took a seat at the table; the poor chair creaked under his weight – he didn't look like he weighed a lot. Probably average, healthy male, maybe some extra muscle but definitely not the weight of an offensive line-backer.

She just brushed it off, figuring her chairs were just getting way older than she thought.

Ducking out into the bathroom, she grabbed the first aid kid from under the sink and came back to him. He was simply sitting there, hands on the table, still gloved and a passive expression on his rugged face.

She set the kit down in front of him, alarmingly aware of the pain in her body.

* * *

James had taken a seat at the table if only to settle the woman's apparent rattled nerves. Given the ordeal she had almost been part of tonight, he thought she was holding up quite well. As she disappeared into the small hallway, he glanced round – assessing this room as thoroughly as he had the last. There definitely wasn't another person living here.

She returned to him with what he had requested and as she pulled back from sliding the kit towards him James noticed the way she was clenching her fists. The light in the kitchen was stark and gave him a better view of the damage done to her physically; she was covered in dirt; her hair was a little messed up, she had a nice bruise forming on her temple, her upper lip was split, her knees were scraped, her left arm was being favored also and the worst of the damage was her throat – it was mottled with light red finger prints.

Nora had come out of it fairly well. He felt bad for taking her time though; the man in him realizing she was going to look after him before caring for herself.

James didn't want that.

He nodded while pulling the first aid kit closer to him. "You should clean yourself up," he directed, occupying himself with opening the kit.

She gave herself a once over, a frown on her face before she nodded a little. She turned and headed back into the hall. Once she was out of sight, he tugged his gloves off. The metal stared back at him mockingly.

He had kept it hidden from her so far and he wanted his current task done before she came back to him. By tomorrow morning he'd be rested and gone from her presence – she didn't need anything to identify him with.

The kit had everything he required; bandages, gauze, padding, and more. The knife hidden beneath his jacket in a holster was produced and laid on the table. The Soldier was methodical over the procedure; he had taken a bullet out here and there over the years; that knowledge came to him as he stood and moved towards the sink. Running the hot water, he held his knife under it; sterilizing the blade before noticing the bottle of alcohol sitting on top of the fridge.

He grabbed it as he made his way back to the table.

James set both knife and bottle down before he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders, tossing it on top of his bags. His holster came next containing three more knives in addition to the one he had on the table. They were left in the holster, laid on top of his jacket and then came his shirt, carelessly tossed across the table.

He tried not to look at his shoulder mottled with those hideous scars. It was a harsh reminder of who he was, what had made him and the past he was running from. His eyes dropped lower fast; searching. Breaking the seal on the bottle, he discovered what he was after. It was different to the ones he had stitched himself when in the field; they had done it while he was asleep years ago – it was straight and precise unlike his own more haphazard ones.

He'd known it was there about two weeks ago, a memory that had brought him to his knees and almost caused him to smash his head open on a bathroom sink of the hotel he'd been staying in. They'd done it to take precautions following one of his missions where he'd gone AWOL. He hadn't had much semblance of sleep since he'd left DC.

He knew he should of dug it out the moment he had come to from that memory but he had been on constant move, never settling long enough for them to pin him down to one location – until tonight.

Finding the scar, he poured alcohol over it; not phased as it ran onto his jeans and down his hip. Picking up his knife, he pressed the tip to the end and dug it in; piercing scar tissue and flesh. He emitted a low groan at the sting. One push and the knife sliced deep into his flesh.

* * *

Nora took his advice, knowing she probably looked terrible and hadn't taken offence to the remark. Heading into her room she grabbed underwear, a pair of jogging bottoms and an old shirt before ducking into the bathroom.

It was small; a shower, toilet and vanity with cabinets beneath it and a long mirror over the top crowded into the space.

She unbuttoned her uniform and peeled it off before looking at her reflection in the mirror. Nora looked a right mess. A small frown creased her soft features at the sight she made and the discoloration forming on her shoulder, belly and throat. Nora was grateful for how fast she healed from such superficial injuries.

Her face wasn't that bad; split lip, bruise over her temple and some dirt but otherwise she fared better than she'd initially expected herself to.

Stripping off the rest of her clothes, Nora stepped beneath the warm spray of water. A ripple of pleasure crept down her spine and she moaned softly – it felt so good after everything that'd occurred tonight.

She scrubbed herself clean; mentally scolding herself that she had another person waiting in the kitchen and hustled herself along despite the deep want to stay in there until the water ran cold.

It was nice to feel clean; Nora wasn't normally so fussed but after tonight all she wanted was to get the memory out of her head – it hadn't happened and she was incredibly lucky to have been helped; not every woman had such luck. It still made her shudder in repulsion at the fact she had been pinned down and pretty much helpless.

Nora knew her capabilities; that a man three times her size was slow and heavy compared to her and in the back of her head she knew exactly how to take one down quick and easy. She didn't know where the knowledge ever came from – Nora didn't enjoy violence against others and steered clear of anything that involved combative. No, the knowledge was just there, like all the other abnormalities about herself.

Drying herself off thoroughly, combed her hair and pulled it into two plaits. Finally deeming herself much more presentable than she had been, Nora decided it was time to face her house guest.

Entering the kitchen, feeling a little better Nora froze in the doorway; a gasp escaping her before she had the chance to stop it. Blue eyes shot up towards her and the man sitting bare chested at her kitchen table, fingers bloodied and dug into his side froze.

Her keen eyes went straight to the most prominent thing on the man; his arm. Or lack thereof. His left shoulder was riddled with white vein scars dozens of them and where his arm should have been was an incredible metal arm with a vibrant red star on top.

It was shocking and yet fascinating. Who was this man? Who had given him that arm? Where had he come from? Is that how he took down those men so easily? What was he?

And then in rapid fire her eyes went to where his fingers were dug into his side. What on earth?

"What are you doing?"

He was white beneath the scruff and dirt. Christ, how much blood had he lost? He didn't answer her, his eyes kept moving from his side to her.

He shifted, a grimace on his face as he groaned softly. Nora shook herself of the shock and quickly crossed the tiles. Nora set her hand on his forearm, not surprised by the way he flinched under her touch.

"You're losing a lot of blood." He eased his fingers from his side as Nora crouched by him, slowly reaching forward to touch the open wound, understanding she was dealing with a man that was like a caged, wounded, wild animal.

"I need to get it out," he bit back, voice tense.

Nora frowned and shook her head, thinking she was crazy for doing any of this tonight. "What do you need to get out?"

He glanced at her, barely – those intense, haunting blue eyes so wary and yet full of despair. "Some black device. A tracer."

The word hung in the air. Nora registered only one word – tracer. Great, not only had she taken in a stray, she'd taken in one with someone on his tail. "This is seriously gonna bite me on the ass," she muttered.

* * *

James froze the second he heard that soft gasp of breath; head jerking up to find his host standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth, clean and a look of absolute horror on her face. James didn't know what to do – if he didn't get a hold of the tracer soon, he'd bleed out; it was much harder to find than he'd believed. Her eyes were on his arm.

He lowered his gaze; not wanting to watch horror turn into disgust.

"What are you doing?"

He felt light-headed as he glanced down at his side; knew it was the blood loss and glanced back towards the young woman in the doorway. James groaned softly as he shifted a little, fingers trying to find the device somewhere in his side.

And then he heard her footsteps.

He flinched. James couldn't help it – the last time people had touched him he'd been strapped into that vile machine and had his memories erased again. Her hand was warm on his forearm. Her voice was soft near his ear as he eased his fingers from his side – accepting that he was not going to find the device himself – he would have to tear his side open further to do so.

She didn't seem repulsed by his open wound, in fact she pressed her fingers over it gently and he almost pulled away; he managed to stop himself. This woman was soft; her voice, her mannerisms, even the way she was dealing with him now – James didn't know whether to trust her but he knew in this moment she was the only help he had and he needed that tracer gone before he left this place.

Nora watched him; he saw the worry in her eyes as his words sunk in. "This is seriously gonna bite me on the ass." Something in him wanted to chuckle, despite the absurd situation. It wasn't funny – it was serious. James knew he had no doubt put her in direct danger from HYDRA.

"You're lucky this stuff doesn't make me squirm easy and I owe you," she said and then she dug her small, delicate fingers into his side.

James grabbed the open bottle of alcohol and downed three large gulps of the strong liquor, letting it burn his throat as he sat there, letting the blonde search his side. He knew there was every chance the damn thing might have moved; he just hoped it hadn't.

He stared straight ahead, trying to focus on the blank white wall across the room. James thought of the woman at his side while doing so. She was quiet as she tried to find the tracer, didn't press him for information and he was grateful for it.

She didn't owe him; he owed her – she had taken him in.

"Victory is mine!" The strange saying brought a confused frown to his face and he glanced down to find the blonde waitress smiling sheepishly at him. "Sorry – I watch cartoons way too much and should not be joking in this type of situation."

James simply nodded at her – not saying a word as she asked him for the tweezers, commenting that it was stuck on something. James could feel it now as he focused on what she was doing. Her hand was buried in his side, he wordlessly handed the tweezers over; once he located what the tweezers were by her description when he'd attempted to hand her a small pair of scissors.

"Wouldn't wanna nick a vein or anything on you, I can only do so much before we'd need to rush you to hospital."

* * *

Nora wanted to heave as she dug round in James' side – it was a lot grosser to actually do the deed than just look at the wound but she was determined to get that thing out of his side. He'd been determined to do it himself but it was better with a little help even if the help was a little worried about possibly injuring him internally with her poking around.

The tweezers were cool and with them and her first hand securing the smooth thing she found in his side, Nora managed to pull the thing free. He let out a shuddering breath and she realized he must have been holding it while she was trying to pull the thing free. It was covered in blood and about the size of her thumb as she inspected it closely.

James looked at her with tired eyes. How much sleep had he had recently? Nora put the device down on the table, resting it on a piece of gauze for the time being.

Now to patch him up.

Nora didn't ask questions. She merely did what needed to be done – he wouldn't trust her if she started sticking her nose into his business, whatever it was.

He didn't move much as she stitched him up. He down her whole bottle of rum like it was water – not like she needed it tonight anyway. Drinking would not help her frame of mind in the slightest.

As Nora was wrapping the bandage around his belly, she asked him to stand so she could get to him better. He pushed the chair out and barely was on his feet before he blacked out. Damn, he'd definitely lost too much blood. Nora reacted quick, bracing her smaller body to catch him before he landed face first on the table.

She wheezed under his surprisingly heavy weight. Wow. He didn't have a six pack; his strength was defined but not ridiculously so.

Man, she managed to get him back into the chair and wrapped up to what she deemed a good standard. Standing before the unconscious man, Nora knew that even with her strength, it was still going to be interesting moving him from the kitchen to the couch.

Watching her hands as best she could following everything, Nora was surprised when he mumbled something incoherently in a foreign language to her when she was trying to pull him into a better position. His eyes were half-lidded – he wasn't entirely conscious.

With some encouraging on her part, Nora convinced him to help get him to the couch. It was a shaky, slow process but they made it and didn't knock anything over. Nora deposited him down onto the couch gently, pulling the throw rug from off the back to cover him before she told him softly to just rest while he could before she left the now completely unconscious stranger out for the count in the living room.

Nora made quick work of cleaning everything up and as she picked up the tracer, she looked towards the sink and then the hallway. Sink or toilet. James obviously didn't want to keep it and if it was a tracer, she didn't want it in the house.

Toilet it was.

With it gone, Nora checked all the doors and windows, her stranger who hadn't moved from his position beneath the throw rub before she called it a night herself.

She had a million and one questions but she wasn't a pushy person and refused to be that irritating one. Nora had done her part; once he was rested, he could move on and find whatever it was he had to be searching for.

Crawling into her bed, Nora curled up beneath the sheets and quilt, asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow.

* * *

The screen moved sharply, its signal bouncing. It was never solid or focused into a pinpoint. The skeleton crew were half asleep and nursing cold coffees as their strained eyes tried to detect anything, anything that might get them in the bosses' good books. It had been a long few months; the battle with Captain America at the Triskelion, their loss of the asset and their subsequent relocating to other bases. They had been shoved into one somewhere between Iowa and Wisconsin; a deep underground base filled with computers and gadgets; rooms were doubled – no one had their privacy here and they had to deal with the Imperial.

None of them wanted to displease him again – they'd already lost three co-workers for not bringing any solid news of the assets whereabouts. As the blond of the trio stood, gathering up the coffee mugs and muttering about getting a new pot, a blip on his screen made him pause.

It could be. The tracer was hard to pin point; they'd deduced it was because of some damage it must have taken – it would be faint but scattered wide and they couldn't go off faint signals that could be from interference with something else.

He stood waiting, eyes locked on his screen.

Blip.

There is was again!

"Mark, Trent – I think – I think he surfaced." Two weary bodies, clambered from their chairs – not truly excited believing it to be another false alarm until they each saw the screen themselves. Their eyes widened almost comically.

"So… who wants to phone this up to the boss?"

All three men stared at another with worried eyes – if they slipped up here, one of them wasn't going to walk away from it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is an early update because I have managed to get a fire under my ass at writing large chunks of this very smoothly and without a hitch. I also will be meeting Stan Lee on Friday and Saturday so sadly I won't get much writing done until after then... I GET TO MEET THE MASTER! I'm so happy (lovingly pets her collectibles) Errrr don't mind me - I'm just beyond excited.
> 
> A thank you to readers, reviewers, favouriters and alerters. I write for you guys because I love being able to share an idea with you all so I love you beyond words when I get feedback of what you enjoy most, what you think might happen, etc, etc.
> 
> New characters, and old, pop up in this chapter.
> 
> ENJOY MY LOVLIES!

 

Moscow, Russia. It was a rainy, miserable day; the wind was bitter – its bite a hard reminder of what he was here for. The hotel was cheap, low key and cash payable – he signed an alias across the guestbook and took the keys from the overweight shabbily dressed man behind the counter without a word. The flight from London had been long; his body was exhausted from the last two months of constant jumping from city to city, chasing ghost stories and rumours.

Files only held and told so much; he could only torture so many former operatives before he broke himself. They'd uncovered more HYDRA rats than he'd expected to find – they may have taken a beating but there were many still loyal to the supreme beasts whose long reach was spreading further by the day. The room was Spartan in style; a small bed, television on a desk and the bathroom wasn't much better. It was simple and would do for a few nights.

Dropping his bags by the end of the bed; Nick withdrew the folders and dropped them on the bed.

_KRAGOFF, IVAN. MESSNER, ELISABETH. LUKIN, ALEKSANDER._

The three files had been kept in his possession exclusively. No one knew of them – Coulson knew of his intent to hunt down and capture members of HYDRA who were main game players in the grand scheme of things but nothing more. He was hoping it would somehow lead him to the main head; the one he needed to severe to kill the beast standing proud above its little underlings.

The two men were indeed HYDRA; Kragoff had disappeared years ago – a genius doctor who had been working in genetics and on ways to cure cancer and enhance the human body but when his wife had been killed he'd just vanished, and Lukin was of Soviet background and should naturally be dead given his date of birth, or at the very least well into his early nineties by now but he was chasing a rumour with that one – the man had been involved with the Winter Soldier project in its early stages and was said to have been gunned down by the very asset he had helped create.

If the man was indeed alive though, maybe it could shed some insight into Barnes history after Zola's experiment on him.

The woman though; he still did not know. Her name jumped out at him every so often in numerous files. American. Middle-aged. She had lived in Boston. No family. No children. She had been a subject to tests though under S.H.I.E.L.D directives some twenty-five years ago.

HYDRA had made and hid Barnes from him from decades; what else had they managed to hide right under his nose. And if she was still alive; something told him he would find her eventually if he kept treading the path he was.

He had settled in for the evening; gun under the pillow and was about to start reading over Kragoff's file when a knock sounded on the door.

Gun in hand in seconds, Nick got to his feet and moved silently towards the door. There was no spy hole. Hiding the gun behind the door, Nick turned the lock free.

The door burst inwards, sending him sprawling back into the room, momentarily stunned. They were on him in seconds; three figures in black and before he could get his arm up and a good aim, something was stuck into his thigh.

His grip faltered; gun hand going limp as whatever was injected started to kick into his system. His vision blurred as black spots began to form and then it was nothing but endless darkness.

* * *

It was the sound of glass smashing that brought Nora back to a conscious state. First, her ears took in the sound – her brain still exhausted and not wishing to make anything of the noise until it came again and her brain told her something wasn't right out in the living room.

_Damn James!_

Her body catapulted from the bed the moment her brain screamed it out to her and she was tearing open the door of her bedroom quicker than lightning. She barely had a chance in the dark, even with her vision as she was grabbed by the throat and shoved back into the wall near the door. The hand around her throat was cold, sleek and hard – his strange metal appendage gripped her already bruised flesh tight. Nora struggled, fear snatching the air from her lungs as he put whatever force he could into pinning her. She clawed at his metal arm. It would do her no good attacking something he couldn't feel pain through.

Nora wasn't normally a cheat though given the circumstances she was definitely going to make an exception. She was seeing black spots, wheezing horribly for breath as she managed to bring her knee up between his legs.

The reaction was almost instantaneous; his grip loosened as the pain took hold of the man pinning her with a sharp groan and Nora used the time to shove him from her; her body going into flight mode as she collapsed to the floor, gripping her throat and scrambling down the hall, trying to catch her breath while getting far away from the man.

This definitely had been her worst idea ever. Next time, she would leave attractive strange homeless saviour on the side of the road and not think twice about helping. Next time, she would have a gun on her person to avoid needing a saviour.

She got to the living room, crying out as she crawled onto something sharp. Pulling back her hands, she was on her knees as a weight suddenly collided with her back. Nora managed to angle herself and shove her elbow back – catching him in his abdomen.

He barely twitched from the blow. James was a lot stronger than he appeared – even for a man. Before Nora could comprehend what was happening, she found herself on her back; that metal hand wrapped tight around her throat again and James over her, breathing on her cheek and his eyes unfocused.

Nora wriggled against the hold, knowing if he tightened his grip any further he'd crush her throat.

Finding the momentum, she got her knees up and managed to shove her feet into his belly, throwing him off her with surprising force for a small woman.

He fell back into the wall and she heard the crack as he connected with it.

Lying on the floor, Nora curled up onto her side – clutching her throat and drawing in deep gulps of air. She was shaking violently.

* * *

The first thing that registered in James mind was an ache in his side and groin followed by the sound of someone breathing in at a rapid pace. He groaned, clutching at his throbbing skull as he leaned into the wall at his back.

What had happened? Lifting his head, he took in what he could of the now evidently destroyed living room that belong to Nora. Had he done this? And then he found Nora. In the dark, her light clothing made her stand out and he realised it was she who was breathing strangely as she lay on the floor, curled up into a ball.

He hadn't? Had he?

It was then as he pulled himself forward, intent on checking the woman who had been nothing but kind to him that he realised he wasn't leaning against the wall but was actually half in it. He had broken the wall. The plaster was crushed in, pieces were scattered round him on the floor.

Wait, how had he managed to break the wall?

James was confused – more so than he wanted to be. It was scaring him. The last thing he remembered was Nora digging that tracer out.

"Nora?" She flinched. He could see that.

He had tried to hurt her – or he'd succeeded. Slowly he pulled himself to his knees and crawled towards the shaking young woman. "Stay – Stay away." It was scratchy and rough on her normally soft voice.

"I won't hurt you," he said softly into the dark.

James watched as she shifted, recoiled from him and backed herself up towards the hall. He could feel the pieces of glass through his pants. He'd broken something in his attack. What had he done? How much damage had he caused?

Her breathing evened out; an uncomfortable silence hung between them as he sat back on his knees, watching her in the dark as she stared warily at him. "Who – Who are you?"

"What did I do?" Question with a question. He was deflecting hers; she didn't need to know she had taken in a master assassin; though he knew the young woman before him wasn't stupid and would have already started coming up with her own assumptions, James didn't want to admit what he had been to her.

He had reverted back to the Soldier when he'd startled awake in the dark, hallucinating long dead victims screaming at him all the things he'd done whilst under HYDRA's hold. It had almost cost him another life; Nora's life.

He sunk backwards onto his ass, burying his hands into his hair and doing something the Soldier never would; he curled into himself like a frightened child. The man he'd once been would never have laid a hand on an innocent woman. God, he wasn't safe to be around.

* * *

Nora was hesitant to approach him – worried that he could be pulling a ruse with her but the way he curled into himself left her pitying him. Whatever war was going on inside his head was probably splitting him in two.

She hadn't pushed him since meeting him however Nora knew now she deserved some answer; an abridged one even but one nonetheless.

Nora knew she had problems but he seemed to take the cake for it right now. Sighing, wincing as she tried to rub her sore throat, Nora shakily climbed to her feet. There was glass scattered across the floor – there went her cabinets.

With her keen vision, Nora slowly edged towards the man and sank down beside him. "James."

"Nora." She was a little taken back, could hear the hoarse edge to his voice – it was a soft plea, knowing he was close to tears and felt her heart tighten in her chest. Nora set one hand against his hair slowly, in case he lashed out at her. He tensed but never moved. Taking that as an okay, she curled herself against his side.

"You've got a lot going on up there don't you?" she said quietly, burying her fingers into his hair.

"No." No?

He leaned his head against her chest as they sat there. "They wiped my memories. Controlled me by making me nobody. No memories, no connections." Nora was wide-eyed but kept silent, worried she might get nothing more out of him if she spoke now. "I didn't know who I was for the last seventy years."

It registered somewhat slowly to her and she blamed the lack of oxygen to her brain over the last twelve hours but Nora didn't think she heard him right. "Seventy years?"

He pulled back and in the dark, his blue eyes found hers before he nodded, confirming her question. Oh god, but how – How was he so young? How had they stopped him from aging? Who the hell had done that to him? So many questions were running through her head and she knew James could see it plain as day on her face. "I was born March 10, 1917 as James Buchannan Barnes."

Nora stared at him in absolute horror and awe. She was holding a man who rightly by time should have been well into his nineties but he looked only twenty-eight at most. "How?"

"HYDRA."

* * *

Nora had come to him. Her hand in his hair and her body curled up against his had sent a warmth through him he hadn't felt in years. She couldn't be real. His mind had to have been hallucinating this woman – no sane human would come near the person who had just tried to strangle them. Right?

Everything in his head was focused in on his past – a tunnel vision of a young, weasel Steve Rogers and himself. Those fragments barely made any sense and it hurt more than knowing nothing.

James gave in and leaned his head against the woman's chest, wanting more of the warmth she provided; like a proverbial moth to a flame. She didn't retreat from him.

He could trust this woman. The Soldier knew it as much as the man did and in that moment, all his defences came down as he told her about memory wipes – how they'd kept him controlled for so long.

Pulling back, James looked at the young woman sitting against him. There were questions in her eyes; millions of them that he knew she wanted to ask but she kept her tongue and for that he was grateful. He gave her the smallest of nods. "I was born March 10, 1917 as James Buchannan Barnes."

The look on her face almost made him recoil until she pressed with the question: How?

He offered her only one word. "HYDRA."

There was no familiar spark of recognition in her eyes in the dark at the term. She honestly had no idea who he was talking about. This wasn't a ruse – Nora wasn't a HYDRA operative, she wasn't clued in to what had happened in Washington.

He reached for her free hand and heard her gasp softly, pulling her hand free quickly and he realised she was hurt. James reached for her wrist in the dark and turned her hand up, running his flesh fingers across her palm. Pieces of glass were stuck in her soft skin.

He managed to climb to his feet in the dark, despite the ache between his legs and on his side. "Sorry for kneeing you, but I needed you to let go."

* * *

She was grateful it was so dark because her face was absolute scarlet over the fact she had kneed him in the groin; mortified. He simply shook his head. "Kitchen," he mumbled and Nora allowed him to direct her towards her own kitchen, she was sure he'd done so that he was behind her and not seeing the pain she'd left him in.

HYDRA. The mythological multi headed beast that Jason had gone up against to gain the Golden Fleece. What did it have to do with how he had survived, unchanged – relatively – by time? She turned the kitchen light on and winced at the blinding light. The first aid kit was sitting on the table and in the light she looked at her palm.

Eight pieces of glass. Damn. Tonight was the night for injury; between her and James alone they damaged pretty well. Nora sat at the table while James grabbed the half empty bottle of alcohol she had put back up on top of the fridge.

He took up his seat from earlier and unscrewed the lid of the bottle. She decided to focus on fixing her palm rather than watching him down half the contents left in the bottle in one go. The tweezers were mocking her as she found them in the bottom of the kit from where she had shoved it all away earlier.

The metal item was cool in her fingers and she was annoyed by the fact she was left-handed in that moment. Her right hand awkwardly held the item. They were pulled from her grip before she could try and retrieve the first piece of glass.

James gently took hold of her palm and Nora winced as he pulled the first piece out. Wordlessly he pushed the bottle of alcohol towards her.

It was silent as she took a small mouthful from the bottle, hissing as he dug into her palm for the next piece. "How did you throw me so hard into the wall?"

Nora paled a little at the question. "I got lucky."

His grip on her hand tightened. "Liar. How?"

She really didn't feel up to opening that can of worms in that moment. It could lead to a million questions she didn't have an answer to. Nora evaded the long winded answer in favour of the simplest one she could come up with. "I've always been like it – I don't know how or why."

"You could've overpowered those men back at the diner."

Nora nodded. "But I don't want to hurt people – it would mean I'd have to leave and I'm safer here, pretending to be the little waitress at Harry's diner than trying to survive anywhere else. I'm different – people get scared of different."

* * *

James knew it wasn't a real answer but he took it, dropping the subject; their was a barrier there and he understood that. His side ached, he could feel the torn stitches as he'd walked – she wasn't drinking anywhere near what he had which he was grateful for because he needed her hands. She let him clean her palm up and his eyes raised ever so to the dark marks on her throat.

The guy hadn't done much damage, James had though. He wanted to run his fingers over the marks and make them disappear; uncomfortable over the idea of having hurt the only person in that moment who was his ally.

He had cut away the bandaging on his stomach and allowed a freshly patched Nora to pull his torn stitches free and redo them. She was careful and precise and he felt safe under her care as she asked him to stand up so she could wrap the new gauze and bandage around his middle.

This time he remained conscious. She was close to him as she did her job and James had his head bowed to his chest, catching the smell of roses. It was perfume – maybe? He didn't think women would wear perfume this late in the night – perhaps it just lingered with her from her shower?

James smiled a little. Nora was his ally. But there was a question lingering on the tip of his tongue. "What did you do with the tracer?"

Nora chuckled a little, pulling back as she finished patching him. "Well I decided rather than keep it, flushing it into the town's sewerage system would be the smartest thing – they'll find the tracer eventually but they won't know where it came from directly."

She was smart to.

James couldn't stop the words that came next. "Thank you."

Her lips curved into a small, soft smile as she nodded at him, despite the weariness in her eyes. It really had been a long night. Nora headed to bed soon after downing another mouthful of alcohol and mumbled a goodnight before disappearing, saying she would clean up the living room in the morning.

James picked his way through the broken glass to the couch at around four in the morning after he had finally decided to try sleeping again, or at the very least lay down and rest. He didn't fear for his safety, Nora wasn't going to turn him in – and that gave him some comfort. A foreign feeling to the Soldier who wasn't designed to deal with the emotions under the passive exterior.

* * *

Harry always arrived at work round six in the morning – the first waitress on rotation with him on a Sunday got a ride with him from town. Mary wasn't a young woman; middle-aged with greying hair starting to appear through her sideburns.

Arriving at the diner in his old station wagon both were surprised by the handful of black SUVs taking up the majority of the parking lot. Men were moving about the lot busily. One man stood closer to the SUVs, hands folded behind his back.

"What's going on?" Mary asked, glancing toward her boss.

He shrugged one meaty shoulder. "Let's find out, doll." Both climbed from the car and made their way toward the man standing close to the SUVs. He had his back to them. Mary, at five foot six wasn't very intimidating to anyone except her children and Harry could only scare supermodels with is humungous girth.

The man turned his head as they approached, glancing at them over his shoulder. He was handsome; tall, muscular and blond – his eyes covered with dark shades. His whole look was immaculate.

"Sorry, the place is off-limits to civilians," he said without turning to meet them.

Harry snorted. "My business there, laddie. What's going on?"

The man turned; stepping towards the pair who now saw the four bodies across the parking lot. Mary covered her mouth in horror, eyes wide and on the verge of tears while Harry stared at the bodies. "What in the bloody hell?"

"These men were attacked and brutally murdered last night," the man said, matter-of-fact and as though the sight of four men dead didn't faze him in the slightest. He was standing tall as a second blond, dressed identically minus the shades to hide his very bright blue eyes – he was a little more unkempt than his fellow suit.

Something didn't sit right though. Harry frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "How'd you know of it – no one would've been round once this place closed? And in the dark, you wouldn't have been able to see the bodies."

Mary nodded a little then realized there was one thing missing also. "Where are the police, Jerry is the Chief, this is his jurisdiction."

The taller of the two blonds glanced towards his shorter companion. He sighed suddenly. "Why are civilians always so nosy?"

In a matter of seconds, he had drawn a gun from the back of his belt and fired twice. One bullet in Harry, another in Mary. There was no hesitation – both bullets went straight through the eyes, instant kills.

He turned towards his shorter companion who was watching the two bodies as they slumped to the ground, lifeless. "Jace?"

"I want all the employee files – he couldn't have gotten far. Tell them to burn the place, West." The shorter blond nodded wordlessly, turning on his heel and heading to do as asked.

A vibration in his pocket followed by the familiar sound of his ringtone alerted him to a call. He withdrew the phone. "Agent 5223."

"We need you and Agent 9378 back at ground zero. Your team is being prepped for a run." He hung up.

"West, we're leaving!" The shorter blond jogged back to his companion. Jace, the tall blond, turned towards one of the men nearby and barked at him to follow up on the employees – the tracer was active in the area so he couldn't be far.

Both blonds climbed into one of the SUVs, pulling from the lot and heading north, uncaring of the limits and clocking one-twenty.


	5. NOTE:

Hi guys, so I've stopped writing fanfiction for a while now - I do apologise to those who were hoping I would continue my stories in the fandoms but I decided to focus on my original content instead. 

In saying that - I am working on converting and updating my one-shots like this one into a new, clean, non-fandom piece. My writing has improved during my absence and as such I decided that I loved these works and wanted them as a way to silently remember all that fanfiction has taught me over the years.

A number of my base concepts in my larger works - such as Things We Owe with Nora's past and my gargoyle story in the I, Frankenstein fandom (My future Immortals series is on dragon shifters, werewolves, gargoyles, etc) and the like are going to appear in my future original works. I just wanted to let those who were waiting on updates of these know why I've been gone so long. 

I am sorry for those who have been waiting for updates it was never my original intention to completely abandon them but I just didn't have the time to work on them while studying, working and then trying to get other things written.

Love,  
Eileen Parry <3


	6. Chapter 6

Hi guys, so I've stopped writing fanfiction for a while now - I do apologise to those who were hoping I would continue my stories in the fandoms but I decided to focus on my original content instead. 

In saying that - I am working on converting and updating my one-shots like this one into a new, clean, non-fandom piece. My writing has improved during my absence and as such I decided that I loved these works and wanted them as a way to silently remember all that fanfiction has taught me over the years.

A number of my base concepts in my larger works - such as Things We Owe with Nora's past and my gargoyle story in the I, Frankenstein fandom (My future Immortals series is on dragon shifters, werewolves, gargoyles, etc) and the like are going to appear in my future original works. I just wanted to let those who were waiting on updates of these know why I've been gone so long. 

I am sorry for those who have been waiting for updates it was never my original intention to completely abandon them but I just didn't have the time to work on them while studying, working and then trying to get other things written.

Love,  
Eileen Parry <3


End file.
